


Angels and Valkyries

by jikanet_tanaka



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Oswald drank his respect women juice, Past Domestic Violence, Rued didn't, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jikanet_tanaka/pseuds/jikanet_tanaka
Summary: Valdis lay a hand over Oswald’s arm, stopping him in his stride. “My lord,” she told him. “No need to lower yourself to his level. I will fight him on your behalf.”“I challenged him, not you!” Rued shouted. “Warrior to warrior! He has no right to refuse me!”“I do not see a warrior before me,” Valdis said. “Only a mongrel begging for scraps with his tail tucked between his legs.”***Or: An alternate end to the East Anglia arc where Valdis gets to beat Rued to a pulp while Oswald cheers from behind.
Relationships: Oswald/Valdis
Kudos: 7





	Angels and Valkyries

Valdis Eirikrsdottir was not one prone to smiles.

Even as a child, adults had noted how quiet, how solemn she was. Some said it had been a result of the grim name her mother had bestowed on her. In hindsight, Valdis figured her stern nature was a product of a harsh childhood, lived in disgrace in a clan plagued by the poor leadership of her mother’s second husband.

Her first marriage with that spineless swine Rued had been arranged by her stepfather to bring the family under the protection of a bigger, stronger clan. She had endured this indignity for two summers, before marching up to her brutish lout of a husband to declare the end of their marriage in front of those he ruled. Valdis and her brothers had then gathered the young warriors of their clan, setting out to England to carve out a new life away from their frigid homeland.

And here she was five years later, a bride once more, married in the stone house of the Christian god. Standing on the dais erected beside the church where she’d exchanged vows with her groom, Valdis observed her new subjects—the people of East Anglia. Saxons laughed and drank entire caskets of mead, cheered on by their Dane neighbours. Pagans danced amidst the flowers, teaching traditional steps to their curious Christians counterparts. Tales were told and stories were swapped as bards and skalds competed in friendly contests. Children weaved garland crowns for all, including the king and queen; Oswald accepted his graciously, before adorning Valdis’s head with her own floral circlet, laughing all the while.

Valdis spied familiar faces among the joyous flock celebrating before her. Finnr looked drunk as a fish; he was trying to scale the stone walls of the church, for some unfathomable reason. An equally inebriated Brothir was supervising an archery contest; most of the participants could barely shoot straight. And Broder was striking a conversation with Eivor, no doubt regaling the fierce drengr with tall tales about his ‘plowing sword’. Valdis snorted; she half-hoped it would end with an icy plunge in the river for her idiot brother.

Then, Valdis found herself examining her new husband as he shook hands with the people offering congratulations. Oswald of Elmenham, last remaining thegn of East Anglia. What an unimpressive specimen of a man he was, with his boyish blond curls and beardless cheeks. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, Valdis would have refused to believe that this soft Saxon had survived a fight with a battle-hardened vikingr such as Rued.

Oswald must have felt her scrutiny, and he turned to smile at her. His blue eyes were bright, earnest… and _beautiful_. Valdis was stunned for a moment, unable to muster any sort of response. It wasn’t the kind of thought that usually strayed in her mind.

“Are you well, my lady?” Oswald inquired, when they were finally alone on the dais. “You’ve been rather quiet.”

“I am fine. You’ll find…” Valdis sighed. “Well, you’ll find that I am not much of a conversationalist.”

He chuckled. “While I, on the other hand, can’t seem to keep my sorry mouth shut. That makes us quite the pair, don’t you think?”

Oswald kept smiling at her. The remains of Valdis’ frown eased, and her lips almost curled upward. Almost.

“Have you enjoyed yourself so far?” Oswald asked. “What did you like most out of the festivities?”

Valdis blinked, surprised by his curiosity. “The dancing. And the music. I enjoy both.”

“So do I. We’ll make sure our home is often visited by singers and storytellers, then.”

“Hm,” Valdis agreed. The thought of spending cold winter nights wrapped in furs and listening to skalds singing about the sagas of old was appealing. This peace was hard fought, but it would be worth it, in the end.

By then, a certain blonde drengr was making her way toward the royal couple. “Eivor!” Oswald called to her. “I’m about to address our guests, and I’d like you to be there. Without you, none of this would have been possible, after all!”

Eivor returned his grin. “It has been a worthy ceremony so far.”

“Have you had enough fun yet?” Oswald asked with good humour.

Eivor nodded. “I’m ready to hear you address your kingdom.”

“Good! Come, come, join me!”

Oswald’s subjects gathered in front of the dais, forming a denser crowd than Valdis would have believed. It was a bit dizzying, thinking that she would have to rule all these people. If Oswald was beset by similar doubts, then it did not show; his face remained open and warm, and his voice never wavered. The people listened with rapt attention as Oswald promised to rule with compassion and honour, before thanking the warriors who had fought for his crown so bravely.

“I see East Anglia’s future right here,” he told his people, “right now, in all of you. Danes and Saxons alike! To our future!”

Valdis’ brothers exchanged a glance, and both of them scoffed. “Still a bit soft on insults,” Broder commented, loud enough so that all could hear, “but I’ll admit you’ve courage enough… for a Christian fellow, that is!”

Oswald sent him a long-suffering look, and both twins roared in laughter in response. The other warriors of Valdis’s clan snickered as well, to poor Oswald’s embarrassment.

“A good speech!” Eivor called, thankfully putting an end to their laughter. “To the good king Oswald!”

“To Oswald!” Broder answered, fist in the air. Soon, all the Danes were shouting, “Skal! Skal!” before drafting the entire content of their horns. The Saxons did not take up the chant, but they cheered for their king with the same eagerness.

When the shouts died down, Finnr clapped his hands to gather the crowd’s attention. He was unsteady on his feet, but he could still walk, which was surprising, considering the amount of mead he’d imbibed. “Alright, everyone!” he called. “The bridal race starts now. Remember, you all have to lose to the bride and—”

“My… my king!” Behind Finnr, a man was limping toward the church. Blood was pouring from a wound on his side, and Oswald tensed at the sight of it. “He… he…”

The man never had the time to finish; a blade burst from his chest, spraying blood in the air. Cries of terror rang out, turning the bucolic church grounds into a scene of horror. The soldier was roughly pushed aside by his attacker, a tall, dark-haired Dane whose bare chest was covered with tattoos. Despite the summer heat, Valdis felt a chill down her back.

Rued. Her erstwhile husband, who should have been rotting in a cage after his defeat at Burgh Castle. The man she had fled, and who had pursued her across an ocean. The man who had made East Anglia bleed and burn for his amusement.

The man who seemed more and more like a living curse Valdis could not hope to escape.

“ _Oswald!_ ” he boomed. “The sheep you left to guard me have been shorn!” Rued seemed blind to anyone save for Valdis’s new husband. How his eyes burned with hatred at the sight of the young king; even Thor’s famous wrath paled in comparison.

Oswald, however, was solely focused on the man bleeding and gasping for breath at Rued’s feet. “Someone, bring him to a healer!” he shouted. “Quickly!”

“ _Oswald!_ ” Rued repeated in a roar. “King of sheep fuckers! Show your eyes! I challenge you!”

The church grounds were seized with panic, and the Saxons villagers ran away screaming. Two of Valdis’s drengir caught the man who had been stabbed by Rued, carrying him away. The treacherous nature of his assault made Valdis’s blood boil; would the man even be able to reach Valhalla if he died of this ill-gotten wound?

Oswald watched the chaos in silence, drawing his mouth into a grim line. He turned to look at Valdis, and she nodded, seeing in his eyes the same quiet sort of anger currently inhabiting her whole body. Then, the young king met Rued’s gaze. “I accept.”

As he stepped down the dais, Valdis was struck by a strange, but familiar impression. She remembered the moment she had decided she’d had enough, breaking off her marriage after one humiliation too many. She remembered the touch of madness that had seized her when she had left behind the world she knew to set out for a new, strange land. She remembered the day she had agreed to Oswald’s proposal, negotiating peace so her clan could have a future in East Anglia.

It was the same feeling taking hold of her right now. A feeling that made her wonder if sometimes the Nornir allowed their mortal charges to seize their moment and spin the thread of fate themselves.

Valdis lay a hand over Oswald’s arm, stopping him in his stride. “My lord,” she told him. “No need to lower yourself to his level. I will fight him on your behalf.”

“I challenged _him_ , not you!” Rued shouted. “Warrior to warrior! He has no right to refuse me!”

“I do not see a warrior before me,” Valdis said. “Only a mongrel begging for scraps with his tail tucked between his legs.”

Rued’s scarred face twisted. “Where was this loyalty, this _fierceness_ , when you were mine? Back then, you acted as if you were already dead, woman.” He laughed. “Every night it felt like I was plowing a corpse!”

“ _You sack of shit!_ ” Broder shouted. Finnr could barely hold him back. Meanwhile, Eivor was fighting to keep an equally incensed Brothir from launching himself at Rued.

“I am loyal to my clan,” Valdis answered. “And I am fierce when I must protect them.”

“Your clan? You consider this soft-bellied Christian to be part of your _clan?_ ” Rued shook his head, smiling a bloody smile. “Tell me, Valdis, was it _your_ choice to spread your legs for an alliance this time? Or did you simply obey the menfolk around you once more, like the meek little wench you truly are?”

Valdis did not rise to the bait. Behind her, she could hear her brothers roaring in outrage. “The more you talk,” she simply said, “the more it seems to me that you are only stalling for time. I tire of this. Come, and let us be done, finally.”

Rued spat on the ground. “So be it, then. Die protecting this pathetic shit shoveller as he cowers behind your skirts. I’ll gladly tear him limb from limb after you’ve bled out at his feet.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Oswald. “Please,” he said to Valdis, putting a hand over her shoulder. “Do be careful, my love…”

Valdis covered his hand with hers, nodding. Rued growled; his entire body was trembling with barely constrained rage. It seemed to take him much self-restraint to tear his hate-filled eyes away from Oswald and look at Valdis instead.

“No weapons,” he told her. “I don’t need any tool to put you in your place anyway.”

Valdis squared her shoulders, falling into a fighting stance. She recognized the mad rage showing in Rued’s eyes; how many times had she seen its effects before? She could not count. His wounds—including the mark Oswald had left when he’d bitten his cheek in their duel—were still red and raw. She knew he would be brutal, but sloppy, in his pain and wrath. Valdis had the truth of the matter when she’d described him as a feral dog frothing at the mouth.

It was time to put him down.

With a roar, Rued lunged forward. Valdis parried his blow, using the momentum to shove him to the side. She counterattacked with a punch, but he swung on his heel faster than she would have believed, blocking her attack and hitting her across the face. Several people cried out in dismay. In the distance, Oswald shouted her name; for some reason, the worry in his voice stirred something in her, something she’d thought long dead and buried.

Rued then grabbed Valdis’s arm, and she struggled to twist herself out of his grasp. Cursing through grit teeth, she aimed her knee at a certain sensitive part between his legs, hitting him repeatedly. Rued let her go with a howl of pain.

Valdis drew back, knowing his response would be swift and violent. Pure rage would now fuel all of his attacks. Valdis was smaller, and certainly less strong than her opponent; she had to fight _smart_ , not fight hard.

As expected, Rued threw himself at her, all pretense of humanity gone. Each of his attacks was careless, clumsy—but Valdis knew she would go down immediately if he managed to land a hit. In time, he would tire himself out. Valdis just had to endure until then.

Story of her life, really.

Eventually, Rued’s movements slowed. Valdis easily evaded his last punch, then launched her offensive; one jab aimed at his jaw, quickly followed by another. Whoops and cheers rose in a crescendo around her, her brothers shouting the loudest among her supporters. Rued staggered backward, eyes unfocused, glassy. Valdis’s fist collided with his temple, and he fell to the ground like a rock.

Rued groaned, crawling on all fours. Valdis remained tense, panting heavily. Her wariness was well warranted; Rued’s hand wrapped itself around the hilt of his discarded sword. Half a second later, and he was launching himself to his feet, swinging the blade toward Valdis.

“ _Valdis!_ ” Eivor called out. Out the corner of her eye, Valdis saw the drengr throwing a shield toward her. In a fluid, flawless motion, Valdis caught it, using the piece of wood to deflect Rued’s blade. With a scream of rage, she swung Eivor’s shield, hitting him with a satisfying _crack_ that reverberated in her very bones. Rued went down once more; this time, he stayed in the mud.

At first, there was only silence. Then came the deafening cheers. Both of Valdis’s brothers ran toward her, crushing her to their chests with boisterous laughter. Finnr stared at her with a stupid grin, apparently struck dumb by what he had just witnessed. Eivor took the sword away from the still moaning Rued, kicking him for good measure. And Oswald…

“My lady!” He rushed at Valdis’s side, and she was surprised when he cupped her cheeks, worry creasing his brow.

“I’ve ruined the dress,” Valdis blurted out. She had a brief thought for the poor seamstresses who had worked on the garment. So many hours of toil wasted by the whims of a madman…

“That does not matter!” Oswald said. “Are you alright? You are not hurt, are you?”

Broder snorted. “Of course not. That’s not her blood, is it?”

“I am fine,” Valdis said, bluntly. She inspected her knuckles; they chafed horribly, but at least the skin had not broken.

“You…” Rued moaned from his spot on the ground, “you troll-cursed _bitch_ …”

Oswald shot him a scorching look. The expression seemed horribly out of place on his usually gentle features. “I will not have you disrespect her!” he snapped. “You will apologize to the queen this instant!”

“Leave it, Oswald,” Valdis said. “His words cannot reach me. Twice now he’s been proven a coward in the eyes of men and gods alike.” With her chin, she motioned at Eivor. “Give me the sword. I’ll put an end to this.”

“Gladly,” Eivor said, handing the weapon to Valdis.

Rued managed to get to his knees. With the last of his strength, he focused his sight on Valdis as she stood above him, blade in hand.

Rued offered her another bloodied smile. “To Valhalla, then. I will gladly feast among Odin’s chosen while you play at being the queen of pigshit and bogs.”

The blade hovered an inch away from his neck. It would be so easy to detach that ugly head from the rest of his body. And yet…

So many people Valdis had loved now revelled with Odin in his hall—her father, her mother, and all the brave fighters of her clan who had taught her to be fierce and brave. The thought of that brute Rued sharing their glory made bile rise to her mouth. From his smirk, it was evident that the same thought occupied his mind. He was _pleased_ to let her suffer this one last indignity.

Oswald hovered near her, silent but attentive. Valdis searched his gaze; after a while, he nodded, understanding her intent.

Valdis pulled back her blade. “I will leave his fate to the king.”

“ _What?_ ” Rued gurgled. “You… you _can’t_ …”

Valdis gave the sword to Oswald, who pointed it at Rued.

“Should a king show mercy to one so malevolent? So cruel?” he called to the people assembled before him. Oswald’s features showed an uncharacteristic harshness as he added, “ _No_. Rued, I’ll not give you the satisfaction of a good death, for my God forbids such cruelty. Therefore you are outcast for this moment on.”

“No…” Rued groaned. “You can’t do that, I’m owed, I’m owed…”

“You are owed _nothing_.”

“She beat me… my life is, my life is…”

“Your life is _God’s_ ,” Oswald spoke sharply. “Now go, leave my kingdom and never return.”

With a sharp motion, he slashed at Rued’s face, marking his cowardice for all to see. Rued dragged himself away from Oswald, naked fear showing in his pale eyes. Dane warriors spat and kicked at him, while Saxons cursed his name, throwing scraps of food at him. When finally, _blissfully_ , he was gone, Valdis felt… _lighter_. As if a literal weight had been lifted off her chest.

Valdis looked at her new husband, not knowing exactly what she hoped to find in his simple, honest features. She found something, nonetheless; a sweet sort of comfort, one she’d rarely seen directed toward her.

“I hope you're not angry,” Oswald told Valdis, “that I let him keep his life…”

Valdis shook her head. “No. You denied him a good death. He is broken and shamed. That is all I needed.”

“In truth,” Oswald added, “the thought that a snake such as him would be allowed to feast in the heavens along with your bravest warriors is well, _abhorrent_ to me. I’m certain your gods would not approve of him.”

“Hm,” Valdis said, feeling a smile tugging at her lips. “They would most certainly not.”

“It’s not very Christian of me, but…” Oswald threw furtive glances about, before murmuring to Valdis, “I am glad my mercy has shamed him.” He smiled—no, _smirked_ would have been the better term. “Perhaps the Lord punished him through you. You served as His avenging angel.”

“Avenging angel?” Valdis asked, with a snort. “What is this?”

“Angels are agents of God’s will on Earth. His soldiers and messengers, if you will. Which means that they may have to judge the hearts of men if necessary.”

Valdis nodded. “Like Valkyries, in a way.”

“I guess so.” Oswald’s smile grew a bit sheepish. “If those Valkyries are anything like you, then I understand why your warriors would follow them so eagerly to the next world. I would certainly obey your call, were you the one guiding me.”

Valdis stared blankly at him for a moment as the meaning of his words sank in. Then, she found herself returning his tender expression. She did not offer a smirk or a grin—just a soft, simple smile, warm like the sunlight pouring through the leaves. Oswald’s hand was still on her bruised cheek, his touch feathery light.

The spellbound moment was broken by a great bark of laughter, and both Oswald and Valdis startled. Brothir put an arm around the shoulders of his new brother-in-law. “What is this? Is that a blush on my sweet sister’s cheeks? You’ve a silver tongue on you as well as brass balls, little king!”

“Lord, help me…” Oswald muttered, turning his eyes heavenward.

“No, no, my Saxon friend,” Broder said smugly, “it is _Freyr’s_ blessing you need if you—”

“Broder, stop,” Eivor said with a laugh. “Do you truly want to bait your sister after the feat of strength she’s just displayed?”

“What can I say? Nothing heats the blood better than a good fight, and from the starstruck expression he showed earlier, our little king understands this perfectly—”

“ _Enough!_ ” snapped Valdis, pushing her brother off the cliff—and toward the river below.

Broder’s unfortunate plunge provoked more laughter from the warriors of their clan. Valdis rubbed her temple with a deep, beleaguered sigh. Oswald squeezed her hand to offer support.

“A Valkyrie indeed,” Eivor commented with good humour. “You’ve made a good match, Oswald of East Anglia.”

Oswald’s blue eyes shone with affection. “Indeed I have.”

Valdis rolled her eyes. She could not, however, stop a smile from spreading on her face.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, Oswald beating the crap of Rued was satisfying 'n all, but am I the only one who wanted more of Valdis kicking all manners of ass while Oswald makes heart eyes at her? No? Only me?
> 
> (Also, someone put the 9th century equivalent of a restraining order on Ivarr and get him away from our bby Ceolbert, please...)


End file.
